Fiery Passionate Kiss
by crazykitsune17
Summary: One shot, short, amusing... YES, RoyEd. A member of the military is running a secret RoyEd magazine called Fiery Passionate Kiss... and... who knew about Havoc's hidden talent? R R!


A/N: Yes. I wrote another fanfic. _Finally. _Oh snapizzle, foshizzle. x.x It's not all that good, but I'm warming up. It's been a long time...

Disclaimer: Ooh-ooh… danananana… :keyboard music: Ohhh, there goes Josh. Ew. Okay. I don't own FMA. Stop bugging me about it.

**Fiery Passionate Kisses**

by crazykitsune17

She pushed up her glasses and flicked a piece of blonde hair away from her eyes as she pored over the manuscript in front of her. She liked to call it her "nighttime job" – as if her day job wasn't enough – and she smiled, running a pen through a sentence on the paper.

"No, no, that won't do. Too many adjectives and not enough punctuation…" she murmured.

The pen she was holding slid into her mouth, and she sucked on the end of it thoughtfully. The composition in front of her was moderately intriguing – not star quality, definitely not the equivalent of a Steinback novel – and was in the process of being edited for her very own, self-published magazine.

The magazine was called _Fiery Passionate Kiss_, and it had everything you could ever want – photographs, gossip columns, stories, cartoons, letters to the editor and even poster pull-outs. It was printed every other Thursday and cost aboutten sens– it was a hardcore magazine!

* * *

_Colonel Mustang tenderly caressed FullMetal's cheek, smiling softly as Edward quivered, shaking with anticipation at the action surely to come…

* * *

_

"_You don't understand me!" Edward cried, grabbing Roy's boots and chucking them at the wall. "You'll _never_ understand me! I hate you!"

* * *

_

_Ed stood over Roy's grave, the rain pouring down and pooling at Ed's tiny feet. Tears streaked down the Elric boy's face as he thought of his beloved colonel journeying up to heaven without him…

* * *

_

_n den roi furked edwurd in de arse n dey had babys n it waz kewl n stuff yay yum yum giraffes…

* * *

_

She grimaced, dropping the pen from her mouth and letting it land on her desk. Swiftly and quickly, she disposed of the last draft in front of her by crumpling it up and tossing it in the garbage can, never to be seen again.

Then she came across a manuscript written by one of her most dedicated and talented fans. _sexieblondielikesroyed_. That was Jean Havoc's pen name, and she smiled. She always liked reading Havoc's entries. They were always interesting, usually humorous, and often cute enough to make even the most hardened military general smile. Havoc had quite the undiscovered talent when it came to writing, and she had even requested that he write a real novel someday.

"Nah," he had said. "I'll just stick to writing my little Roy and Ed stories." He then winked and waved and walked back to his desk to continue writing.

_Too bad_, she thought. _He really could make it big…_

She started to read his paper.

* * *

_**Luck**_

_by sexieblondielikesroyed_

_Mustang sniffed the air and smiled. "Can you smell that?" he asked no one in particular._

_Ed heard him and gave a grunt. "What, did you fart or something?"_

_Mustang ignored Ed's question and continued his soliloquy. "It's luck. It's in the air, all around me. This is the day I am gonna get lucky. Hawkeye is not going to one-up me this time, no…"_

_Ed's face faltered. "What the hell are you going on about, Colonel?"_

_The colonel thrust a single pink slip of paper in Edward's face and waved it around, a devious glint in his storm-colored eyes. "Do you see it?" he asked._

"_Yeah. It's a lottery ticket."_

"_Yes, but not just _any_ lottery ticket!" cried Mustang. "My _winning_ lottery ticket! Hawkeye isn't going to get the one-sen prize for getting a couple lucky numbers this time!"_

_Ed yawned. "And why's that?" It was best just to play along with Mustang's game and say whatever he wanted you to say when he got into his manic ranting moods. Ed, of course, could care less about Mustang's so-called winning lottery ticket – he wasn't old enough to involve himself in the lottery, anyway – but he sat and pretended to be interested. If it meant keeping the colonel happy, he would do it. Ed hated when Mustang went into his sulky, "Don't-bother-me-you-insignificant-pipsqueak-because-I-am-far-too-bogged-down-with-paperwork-and-whatnot-to-acknowledge-you-in-a-pleasant-manner" moods._

_Those moods were the moods when Mustang called him "FullMetal" instead of Edward or Ed._

_And those were the moods when Ed slept alone._

"_This is a winning lottery ticket because…" Mustang paused for dramatic effect. "I switched tickets with Hawkeye."_

_Ed sweatdropped._

_Then came Mustang's genius master plan…_

"_You see, young Edward, a high-ranking military official such as myself has been through many trials which require special 'sneaking-around' skills. On some occasions, it is even necessary for us talented high-ranking military officials to steal and snitch._

"_So using my special sneaking-around skills, I patiently waited for Hawkeye to go out on break, and then I crept, carefully and without sound, towards her desk. Using a pen nib, I picked open her lock on the top drawer. There, I saw, like a gleaming beacon of light, the little pink slip that was her lottery ticket! Then, as inconspicuously as I could, I switched her ticket with the one I had purchased and stealthily walked away. Hawkeye was none the wiser._

"_And now, we shall see!" Mustang throttled the ticket once more, his expression positively glowing. "Today is the day… where we shall see if my numbers are the winning ones…" He turned on the radio just in time to hear the DJ announcing the winning lottery numbers. Mustang and Ed eagerly hunched over the lottery ticket, their eyes glued to the little digits printed on it._

"_Seventeen, twenty-six, forty-four, forty-five, forty-eight, and eleven."_

_Ed glanced at Mustang's face. He was absolutely crestfallen._

"_Not a single number…"_

_Meanwhile, Hawkeye marched into the room, beaming, holding her own lottery ticket in her hand. "Colonel! Edward! I just won two million sens on the lottery!" In a moment of uncharacteristic jubilation, she even allowed herself a quick spin on her toes before bolting out of the room to tell everybody else._

_Mustang's lip quivered, and he crushed his losing lottery ticket in his angry fist. Feeling almost sorry for his beloved colonel, Ed reached out and touched his hand tenderly, rubbing it softly as if to say, "It's all okay…"_

_Mustang imediately calmed down. He closed his eyes and let out a breath of hot air. Ed lay a head on Mustang's shoulder and murmured something the superior couldn't understand, yet felt in his heart._

_The little pink lottey slip escaped Mustang's loosened grip and fluttered off the desk and into the wastebasket._

_A short moment later, a pink-faced Mustang smiled up at Ed and whispered, "Maybe I'm luckier than I thought."

* * *

_

She fixed the spelling of the word "immediately" and set her red editing pen down on top of the paper. "Aww, Jean, you always know how to win over our readers' hearts…" she murmured, placing the manuscript in the pile of stories to publish that Thursday.

The door opened. Riza Hawkeye looked up from her work, startled. Silhouetted in the door stood Mustang, his face darkened and eyes dull.

"C-Colonel!" Hawkeye saluted, surreptitiously trying to stow away her manuscripts and editing tools. "What brings you here so late?"

"I was wondering that same question," said Mustang darkly. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, just some extra work," Hawkeye replied coolly without breaking a sweat.

Mustang raised an eyebrow. "Then I assume you are working on processing those reports we received from Fuery?"

"Yes, sir." _What reports_?

Mustang nodded. "Good. I hope to see them all filed and alphabetized with all of the important information highlighted and underlined on my desk on _Thursday_." He left the room, closing the door a little harder than necessary.

Hawkeye breathed a sigh of relief. She even allowed herself a slight, almost nonexistent giggle.

Next Thursday, Mustang found more than Fuery's reports on his desk. It was almost funny the way his face turned purple when he figured out that his entire staff was overly-supportive of his and Ed's relationship. It was almost especially humorous when he learned that his right-hand woman was the editor of all this "nonsense", as he so pleasantly put it.

It was almost funny. Almost humorous. Before that Thursday's issue of _Fiery Passionate Kiss_ went up in fiery, passionate flames.

* * *

-crazykitsune17 


End file.
